Not a metaphor. Actual fireworks. As in, the British Fireworks Championships. Two nights of lighting up the sky, explosive entertainment and dazzling displays. There’s been a lot of cancellations, recently – for all kinds of reasons. Shows not happening. Friends de-platformed. A job loss for another because they will not go along with HR’s Indoctrination requirements. Updates being late. American leadership. A lot of endings… things that land and fall flat with a final, dull, thud. It would be good to see some pyrotechnicians rage it our against the evening sky.
Looking forward to watching the displays not only from my living room – which has a view over the sound where the fireworks will happen – but from the festival grounds… where the food trucks and fan seats are already being assembled. We missed Tom Jones. We missed the Hatchling. We won’t miss the fireworks.